Daddy's Little Princess
by evilkins
Summary: Exploring the implications of children of Lucifer. What that would mean for the child, for the trapped Lucifer, and for the boys who intend to keep him that way. Slightly outside of canon, definitely a work in progress. First time writing in a Very Long Time. First chapter is not so bad, but leaving the M there as heavier topics are coming. Feedback is certainly welcome.
1. 1 - Better Run

It was early, way too early, and Jenny sat up in bed, pulling her knees up to her chest. She hadn't slept yet - hadn't really _needed_ to - but it seemed every time she closed her eyes, they were there. They'd been in her house, with their strange black eyes and their sick laughter, as they wrestled her mother to the ground. She saw them, in her mind, before she even hit the hallway that night. Three of them, taking turns kicking her mom to the ground as she struggled to get away, to reach _her_ before they could. By the time she had her hand on her door, two more appeared in front of her, reaching for her with disgusting grins and clammy, grasping hands. One of them, a redheaded boy not much older than she, looked her up and down before he took her roughly by the arm.

" _Your daddy wants to see you,"_ he'd said. She'd never met her real father and her stepfather Peter was long since dead, having perished in the fire that took her brother and baby sister and setting her and her mother on the run.

Jenny jerked her arm back, slipping out of his hold for only a second, forcing herself past the two creatures and closer to her mom. She saw her mother pick herself up once more, fending off the blows from her tormentors. Olivia managed to grab one of them by the hair. She pressed her hand into his face, forcing his essence out of his body, and he dropped to the floor. The other two redoubled their efforts to restrain Olivia. Jenny saw her mother's face for only a second before she fell again. That's when it happened. She'd done this before, back in Missouri, she'd saved her mom, and knew she could do it again.

She reached out, shrieking for her mother, pointing all that rage and fear at the men surrounding her. They didn't even see her coming - only a flash of light and then silence. A mist of blood hung in the air where they'd stood, and Jenny whirled on her assailants in the hallway before she'd seen what became of them. The two behind her _had_ seen - they saw the wave that rippled forth from the tiny bird of a girl, saw their friends detonate. They backed away from her, frantically pawing at doors, looking for an exit - away from the tiny ball of rage bearing down on them. She grinned, the same sick, dark grin they'd given her only moments before. Her voice came from a different place this time, someplace she'd only seen in her dreams.

" _Oh, I know who my daddy is,"_ she had said to them, sure only in that second that she was right.

Olivia twisted and moaned in her sleep, bringing Jenny back from her memory with a start. She leaned over her for a moment, watching her eyes twitch restlessly behind her lids, watching her struggle to catch another breath. She didn't like seeing her mama like that. She smoothed her mother's hair back with a single slow sweep and brushed away the nightmare like so much dust. Mama needed her sleep. Something big was coming and Jenny needed her. She slipped silently out of bed and padded over to her knapsack, withdrawing a half-filled sketchbook and pencil. She took up a spot on the foot of the bed, folding her legs beneath her, and watched her mama sleep until the images began to filter into her head. She flipped open the cover and began to draw ...

The sun was coming up and she needed to remember.

Olivia stretched out, gingerly at first, testing her still-bruised ribs and attempting to locate her daughter before she fully opened her eyes. The battered flesh sang with the effort of her movements and she pulled her arms back down quickly. Her foot met resistance near the end of the bed and she flicked one eye open. Jenny sat on the blanket, having already showered and dressed. She was facing her mother, but her head was bowed under drippy blonde hair and all of her focus was on the sketchpad in her lap. She nudged Jenny again and the girl looked up, her light blue eyes still cloudy with concentration for a second.

"Good morning, muffin." Olivia smiled at her daughter, and began to carefully pull herself to sitting, lest she upset her angry bones again. A shadow of a smile slipped across the girl's face and her head dropped back to the book. The pencil in her hand alternated between tiny, precise movements and large sweeps. Occasionally, Jenny closed her eyes and changed her grip on the pencil, looking as if she was trying to grasp the last tendrils of a dream. She had an air about her that made Olivia reconsider taking a peek at her work, so she swung her legs out of bed, leaving the child to her restless recollections. She crossed the room with some effort and crouched in front of one of the two bags they were able to snag as they fled their home the week before. At least she'd slept last night. The dreams came more often in the days before the attack, but she'd had a reprieve the past two nights, even having difficulty recalling just what had happened the night they left. She'd slept easily once she felt they'd reached safety, checked into an out of the way motel a couple of towns over with the little cash they had and sufficiently nondescript names. She'd figure out their next move after they'd had a few more days to rest.

She snatched a clean shirt out of the bag and scooped her pants up from the chair where she'd left them the night before, heading into the bathroom for a shower herself. Under the hot water, she tried again to move her arm, twisting with a bit more ease this time. She tipped her head back under the water, keeping her eyes closed, letting the water run over her face. They'd have to get moving again soon, but to where? And how soon would it be before her former landlord and the police pieced together the scene she and Jenny had left behind and came looking for them? They'd cleaned up what they could, dragged the intact bodies and the larger remains of the not-so-intact out back and set them ablaze. The house was set far from the main road and neighbors were scarce, but the two slipped away as quickly and quietly as they could, hoping the fire wouldn't catch the house.

She spotted the soap that Jenny had left in the shower and quickly smoothed it over herself, with a quick pass through her short hair, as the water passed from hot to tepid long before she was ready. She was wrestling her shirt down over her head as she walked back into the room, and so was unprepared for the knock that came at the door.

Jenny jerked her head up from her work at the noise. She looked at her mother and froze, eyes wide and silent. Olivia held up a hand and Jenny slipped from her spot, folding the book closed and sliding it under the bed. She crossed behind her mother, aimed at the slice of blank wall just behind the door, where she couldn't be seen. She closed her eyes and formed the cold feeling creeping through her gut into a tight ball in her mind, ready if Mama needed her.

Olivia stopped at the edge of the window, twitching the curtain aside for only a second. She sucked in a breath, expecting the oddly unwavering gaze of the creatures they encountered before, and wondering if she'd be able to call upon whatever it was that sent them away. She flicked a glance at Jenny, flattened against the wall behind the door, eyes closed and trembling slightly. Before she saw their visitor, he began to speak in a hurried whisper, clearly aimed at the wrong door.

"Guys? Hey - hey, I lost my key somewhere out here, let me in." The doorknob jiggled as he tried it again, but it remained locked. "Come _on,_ I gotta whiz." Olivia let out the breath she'd been holding and twisted the lock. Jenny remained in her spot, but a smile had cracked across her face as well. Olivia opened the door and the guy practically fell into their room before he had a chance to see them. She glared at him, but still offered a hand to help him to his feet. He grinned, sheepishly, flashing what were decidedly _human_ green eyes at her. _He'd be pretty if he shaved_ , Olivia thought briefly, not quite moving to let him see any of the room past her. "Wrong room?"

She nodded slowly, keeping one arm across the doorway for a moment longer. He motioned past her and shrugged a bit - "Um, can I?" She rolled her eyes and dropped her arm, letting him dash past her with an urgency she hadn't seen since her own son was alive. She relaxed a bit more as the bathroom door slammed shut. Their visitor let out a long groan, apparently relieved. Jenny moved away from the wall and closer to her mother as they both traded incredulous glances and began to giggle. "holy CRAP, I have been in that car too LONG!" the guy exclaimed from inside the other room. That was it for Jenny. She clapped her hands over her mouth and fell back onto the bed, lost in what was probably the first good laugh she'd had in forever. Olivia remained standing, shaking her head and laughing. _What the hell,_ she thought to herself. Jenny was just beginning to catch her breath again when the stranger emerged again.

"Afternoon, ladies," he nodded at the girls, grinned with a smoothness all its own, and strode back to the door. Jenny was about to lose it again when he turned back to them, raking his hand back through spiky, almost-blond hair. "You all wouldn't know where to get some decent pie around here, wouldja? I'm - kinda new in town." She let go all over again, shoving a pillow over her face.

Olivia chuckled again, wiping her eyes quickly. "No, sorry. We're pretty new here, too," she gestured toward Jenny, "Ignore her. We've, ah, had a hard week, and - "

The stranger shrugged and waved her away, "No problem. I've been on road a bit too long myself. Apparently I can't read anymore. Name's Dean." He stuck out a hand to her and she gave it a quick squeeze.

"Olivia," she said. "Giggles over there is my daughter." she smiled a little more easily now. "Glad we could be helpful."

Dean looked around the room, noticed the two jumbled knapsacks on the floor and not much else. "Just you two?" he asked. She nodded. There was something about the pair that wouldn't let him just walk out, and it wasn't the girl losing her damn mind into the pillow. She struck him as a kid who hadn't laughed in a long time. Both of them looked like they could use a good meal and a long nap. Olivia couldn't have been much older than him, but wide streaks of grey had already broken her dark hair. Her pale grey eyes were set deep into her face, the eyes of someone who'd spent too many nights afraid to close them. The girl was spindly and pale, hair the same shade as her skin tumbled down her back, still damp and sticking to her face as she regained her composure and took the pillow off her face, folding herself up on the edge of the bed. She met his eyes only briefly, then shifted her gaze to Olivia. She had her mother's haunted eyes, tinged blue. He knew what people on the run looked like and these were them. But running from what?

"Hey, listen - I'm in room - um, 21," he jerked a thumb at their door, numbered 12. "If you two need something, come on down. Especially if you find pie." Olivia smiled back at him, nodding curtly. Whatever it was, she wasn't talking. He turned for the door, calling over his shoulder, "Bye, Giggles." The door clicked shut again behind him. Strolling back to the _right_ room this time, he wondered something. This time when he knocked, his brother opened up, dangling a key on an orange plastic tag in front of his face.

"Forget something?" Dean snatched the key out of his hand and popped him quickly in the chest. "Shut it."

Sam rolled his eyes at him and slid back into his chair in front of an open laptop, multiple screens open as he pored over their latest case. "Did you check out the house?"

"Yup," Dean kicked back on the bed, toeing off his boots and stretching out. He rubbed his face and yawned. The drive had been longer than he'd wanted on less than no sleep, and he was tired. "Somebody torched a pile of demons out back - reeked of sulfur."

"I couldn't find much on the house itself. Rental property, land is clear - no gravesites, nothing weird associated with the area at all." He could hear Sam clicking through more sites, double checking his information.

"So, who invited those guys to the backyard barbecue?"

"No idea," Sam paused, reading more, "last tenant was a short-term, cash-up-front, landlord says it was a mom and kid - they were gone before the fire department got there and no one's seen them since."

Dean's eyes shot open. Well, that would be something to run from. But how the hell did those two take on five demons? He'd seen what little remained of the charred corpses and they were dead long before they got flame-broiled. He got up, pulled up a chair next to Sam and leaned in.

"Did they leave a name?"

"Um .. yeah," Sam sorted through the tabs for a moment more, looking for the landlord's interview in the police report he'd been looking at. "Clarke. Olivia and Jenny, it says."

Shit. "Sammy, you need to come with me. But first, we need pie," he swiped the room key off the table and headed out, Sam following, more than just a little confused. "I'll explain on the way."


	2. 2 - Try to Forget

She'd been out, picking up some lunch for the two of them, and a few other things. She filled up the tiny motel coffee pot and started up some passably subpar brew. Olivia kicked off her sneakers and snatched the newspaper off the table, settling into the closest chair. If they were going to stick around any longer, she'd have to find work.

Jenny was asleep on the bed, her sketchbook still open on her lap. She'd been at it all day, working out page after page of images. The one she'd allowed Olivia to see brought a tear to her eyes - Jenny's twin, James, stared up from the page with the big dark eyes she missed so much, The barest of smiles curled at the edges of his lips, just as he'd once been. James was the serious one, quiet and studious to Jenny's mischievous streak. He was always looking out for her, sometimes stepping in to save Jenny from herself. They complemented each other in so many ways. After the fire, it was nearly a year before she saw Jenny smile again, but it was never the same. Jenny lost a part of herself in that fire.

She shrugged off the grief settling around her shoulders and flipped to the last few pages of her paper. There was an ad for a waitress at a diner close by. She marked the ad to stop in the next day. The last line of the ad caught her eye and she laughed a little, "Best Pie Around"

She read through a few more listings, marking the ones that looked promising. She avoided jobs that required specific skills, scanning the pages for establishments that looked just this side of shady - the ones that looked most likely to pay cash and not ask a whole lot of questions. If they stuck around more than a couple months, she'd look for something a little more legit and start casting about for an apartment or house they could rent. If things stayed quiet, Jenny would eventually attend school. She had to test the waters wherever they went, making sure that they didn't raise any suspicions -

 _making sure nobody pissed Jenny off too bad - that guy in Indiana had a terrible accident after he -_

The coffee pot beeped and she filled one of the nearby paper cups, returning to her seat and her job search. Jenny stirred a little, one skinny arm flopping out of the blanket and over her face. The sketchbook tumbled to the floor. Olivia set down her cup and went to retrieve the book. Halfway there, she heard a knock behind her. She pushed the curtain next to the door aside, greeted by the sight of Dean and some other guy. He was a bit taller, with a rounder face and shaggy dark hair. Dean held up a six-pack and a brown box tied with red and white string. She opened the door. "We found pie!" he smiled, waiting for her to step aside and invite them in. She hesitated for a second, then the smell of the pie hit her and she let them in, hoping they couldn't hear the low growl of her stomach. Dean set the pie and the sixer on the table and motioned to his companion. "Sammy, this is Olivia. Olivia, my brother Sam."

She nodded and shook his hand, giving him a bit of the side-eye. Jenny began to stir again at the sound of visitors and she sat up, rubbing her head. She saw Dean first and snickered. "Hey, whiz kid."

Olivia cleared her throat a little too loud and shot Jenny a look. "My daughter, Jenny."

"Hi," Sam waved quickly, shoving his hands back in his pockets. He seemed - nervous. Olivia kept an eye on him.

"So, who's hungry?" Dean popped open a small utility knife and cut the string, flipping back the box top. The smell of warm pastry and cinnamon apples filled the room. "Best Pie Around"

Jenny yanked the blanket back and hopped right up to the table next to Olivia. Sam produced a small stack of paper plates from the bag he'd brought and Olivia rummaged in the drawer under the coffeepot, returning to the table with a small clutch of plastic forks. Pie was sliced and plated and, for a moment no one said anything. It was Pie Time.

Olivia started first. "So, you two travel much?" Sam and Dean traded looks and laughed.

"Yeah. Mostly for work." Sam responded.

"Family business," Dean added, taking another huge bite of the pie. He was well on his way to seconds.

Olivia nodded, inwardly thankful for the pie and for some company. It had been hard on the two of them, constantly having to keep up guard, picking up and running at even the slightest provocation. She was getting tired, and these guys seemed harmless enough to pass a few days with. They'd be gone again soon, and Olivia and Jenny would be on their own again. They deserved a break, and the pie really was the Best Around.

Sam sat back and popped open one of the beers as he regarded the girls. Dean was right, these two were trying to get away from something. He was having trouble wrapping his head around these two wasting five demons though. The woman, Olivia, was their age and certainly could have more going on than they could see. She moved with a caution that spoke to many years of being ready to drop and run at the first sign of trouble. He'd noticed the paper on the table, with a handful of want ads marked. She was looking for work, but the places she'd flagged didn't seem the type to do terribly thorough background checks. They'd been at this for awhile. The girl, though - she was odd, to put it mildly. She'd barely spoken, after their initial exchange, and almost never took her eyes off her mom. He had to find out if they really were the last people in that house.

"So, you from around here?" He asked directly, locking eyes with Olivia. She dropped her eyes fast, and snagged a beer for herself. She popped the cap and took a long drink, trying not to answer right away.

"Here and there," she shrugged, suddenly on alert again. "Just … haven't found someplace that feels like home yet, y'know?" She fiddled with the thin silver band on her left hand.

"I know," he softened a bit. Hadn't meant to scare her. He pointed at the ring. "So, what happened? Jenny's dad?"

Olivia stiffened for a moment, then took another drink. "No, not Jenny's dad. But yes, I was married."

Jenny moved closer and slid her hand over her mom's. "Peter was my stepdad." She speaks, Sam thought. "There was - an accident, back in Pennsylvania. That's where we came from. It's OK, can talk about it."

Olivia looked at her daughter and relaxed again. "She's right, there was an accident. We lost Jenny's brother and sister as well. But that's ancient history, I'm sure you don't want to hear about all that." Sam made a mental note to search some records for PA with their names. There had to be something out there, and maybe it would get them closer to an answer. But still, how did they end up in a motor lodge in southern Colorado, right on the heels of that fire?

"Long way from the start, huh? Been here long?" Getting Jenny to talk was a good sign, maybe she'd be able to fill in some blanks. Olivia certainly seemed to drop her guard more once Jenny started talking.

"Only a few days. We just got into town. Kind of .. working our way west." Jenny looked to her mom for approval, and she nodded. Keeping their story straight. She turned back to the boys.

"You all ever been to Baton Rouge?" Olivia took another drink, "We came through about a year ago, in the summer."

"Yeah" Dean answered, going for another slice of pie. He made a face at Olivia. "God, summer?"

She laughed, "Summer. It was terrible. Poor Jenny looked like she was going to melt until we packed up and left. I was just glad to leave the mosquitoes behind"

Dean laughed "Big as your damn hand."

"I'm more of a snow person" Jenny explained. Seeing the two relax again, Sam let them steer the conversation. They traded stories from their time on the road, and the conversation fell into a comfortable rhythm. Jenny always looked to her mother as she talked, and with almost unnoticeable glances and nods, they decided which details of their life to share and which to leave alone. Arrivals were delighted in and shared freely, departures almost skipped entirely. The closest Jenny ever came to the truth was "there was an accident". Sam had to see if he could throw her off, make her or Olivia reveal where they'd come from.

"So," Sam broke into the conversation, "do you go to school at all? Say, South Fork?" He recalled the name of the town where they'd found the burnt houseful of demons.

Jenny stopped. She looked at her hands, then a pleading glance at her mother. She didn't want to talk about it - that was immediately evident. Olivia sat forward and coughed a bit.

"She catches up when she can, but - " she cut herself off, picking at the label of her bottle and taking a deep breath. She closed her eyes for a long time, and when she spoke again, Sam knew he'd hit home.

"Look, stop it, OK? Stop screwing around. Clearly, you know more about us than we know about you. I don't know where you boys came from, but I know a few things. One, you're not traveling for fun. Whatever 'family business' bullshit you're tied up in, it's tough. You've seen some shit, and you go chasing after it when any sane person would run like hell, " Olivia paused and looked at Jenny, who nodded at her mother after a very long minute. "Two, I think you're here for us. And I'm really hoping it's to help."

Olivia let that last statement hang in the air between them. For the first time, she knew she and Jenny were done running.


	3. 3 - Trick of Light

A long, long time ago …

There was a girl. That's how these things usually start, right? There was a girl, and she was a happy girl. She passed her days surrounded by her family, playing at her Father's feet between tending to her lovely gardens and challenging her brothers to games. Her brothers were special in their own rights, and each dealt with her very differently. She learned much from Michael, but found him far too concerned with How Things Must Be to be much fun. Raphael never listened to her, and belittled the time and effort she put into shaping her gardens. Gabriel was fun. He loved to play games - not so much fun when she was a target rather than a playmate.

Luci was different. He always had a ready smile and time for a game with Ariel. She often brought him to tour her gardens, excitedly pointing out each new leaf or bloom, and he always noticed when she'd cultivated a new corner of the world their Father had created for them. He'd been the one to teach her the importance of Balance, appreciating the sweeping deserts and frozen tundra as much as the lush forests and vast, grassy plains. He'd watched with her, in shared wonder, as creatures came to inhabit her gardens, as they grew, and changed. She delighted in their interactions, forming families and tribes, spreading out to cover the earth. Even when they fought among themselves, she tried to understand and appreciate the Balance. There were times she wept for the humans, for their fears and failures. It was one thing Lucifer never quite grasped.

"Ari, why do you love these sad little creatures? Don't you pity them? Look at them down there. They're so - helpless."

"They're special. Luci. Look how they care for each other. See how they feel with their whole essence. They love, even as it causes them pain"

"But why, Ari? Why do they not care for themselves first? Why do they suffer and sacrifice? Father gave them the freedom to choose - why choose to hurt? To lay down their lives for one another?"

"Would you not do the same? Would you not sacrifice yourself for your brothers? For me?"

"No, little Ari, I would not. What good would I be to you then, miserable and broken? That doesn't mean I would not help you - you are my favorite. I would charge into battle for you, Ari, but be sure I would have armor and a sword." He'd laughed a bit at her concern, but he always spoke the truth. He had his reservations about the humans, often wondering at their Father's plans for them. He resented that these things - no more than beasts, really - had the ability to choose their own paths, to even choose to believe and follow Father's directions.

She'd also been there the day everything changed. She'd been next to her Father, imparting her observations of the funny creatures her Father had grown to love so much. He'd told her how happy He was that she treasured them as well, and asked her especially to look after them.

"You are my treasured, little one, but they are my Most Treasured creation." The thought bothered her, but she'd pushed away the hurt and agreed. "Yes, Father. I will look after them."

He'd called her brothers before Him as well and commanded that they submit to the supremacy of the new creatures. Michael, ever loyal to Father, agreed instantly as did Raphael. Gabriel grudgingly complied, mostly fearing the consequences. Like Ariel, Lucifer felt the pain of no longer being Most Treasured. Unlike her, he refused to submit. He'd had many disagreements with Father over the humans and this - this was only the last straw. He exploded with rage at their Father.

"And what of us, Father? We are your greatest creation, not these miserable little monkeys! We pushed back the Darkness, tamed and shaped the earth, followed each and every one of Your Plans faithfully! And you throw it all away on - on them! Where is our reward, our Paradise?"

Father had not been pleased at all and sent Lucifer away. Rumblings of his rebellion threatened to tear Heaven apart as dissenters gathered, ready to take on Father. Things were changing, and Ariel knew she'd have to choose sides if she did not leave. She knew he didn't stand a chance, and knew she couldn't be a part of the effort to destroy him, either. Her Family was no more. She'd slipped away, to tend to her gardens, and stayed away as long as she could, looking after the humans, as she'd promised. She watched over children as they played, pointed them to the best fruit trees and the sunniest spots. She went to them as they slept, tried to ease their fears, whispered secrets to them. She loved them still, even as they unknowingly led to the destruction of her only home.

When the battles died down, Gabriel came to her, told her of all that had passed. He gave her space as she screamed and wept for her lost Luci. She couldn't see how Father could react so rashly against his first creations, all over a refusal to bow down.

"He attacked us," Gabriel tried to explain, "Ari, he led a _rebellion_. Now you know I enjoy a good fight just as much as anyone, but he's taken it too far! He's dangerous to all of us. He's evil, Ariel.

"Gabe, he's not _evil._ " She hated how her brothers oversimplified matters - everything was always black and white with them. Luci was more than grey, he was _color._ "We have to free him - he'd do the same for us - "

"See that is where you're wrong. little one, Lucifer only cares for himself. He doesn't understand sacrifice. He doesn't understand the _greater good._ He would rather see Heaven in ruins than bend a knee to Father's little pets."

"I have to speak with Father - he will see my way, Gabriel. He must." She prepared herself to return, but Gabriel stopped her.

"He's left, Ariel. He will not see your way, nor anyone else's. Michael is struggling to maintain control, and - "

"Then you must help me, Gabe, you have to. You must know a way to free Luci." she pleaded, desperate. He did know a way to free him, but he wasn't about to just hand her the keys without _something_ for himself. He fancied a bit of a game.

"I do know a way, but it won't be easy. Ariel, if Lucifer is to be freed, he must be ready to show that he is worthy. That he is capable of sacrifice - of loving something greater than himself." Ariel had learned to be suspicious of Gabriel when he took on this tone.

"You want to play a game, don't you? Gabriel, I do not like your games - you are far too fond of cheating."

"I promise - I will abide by the rules as they are set. But, as it is a game, there need to be rules, and it must be a challenge. There will be obstacles. Ariel, I am taking a terrible chance even talking to you. If Michael were to find out I had anything - "

"He won't. What are your terms?"

"Lucifer now resides in an unbreakable cage, built to hold even the most powerful angel. It is locked for all eternity with over 600 seals. There is no escape for your dear Luci. However, " he paused, considering his next words carefully. "I know of a small failure in the design. In the right hands, this flaw could be _manipulated_ in a certain way, earning any unlucky inhabitant a day pass, as it were."

"You can't free him, then. You are already lying to me, Gabriel." She began to gather her considerable rage within herself, but he kept talking.

"I can free him long enough to prove a point. See, our Father did not simply throw him in a cage and turn his back. He gave Lucifer a condition to his imprisonment. You, little Ariel, must find him and show us - _show Father -_ that he is capable of loving something more than himself. Do this and your Lucifer will be freed." Ariel was sure this was a trap. She waited for Gabriel to reveal the remainder of the deal, the part where it became impossible.

"But," he continued, "you'll have no resources, no assistance. No one will know you, no one will remember you. Even if we wanted to help, once you accept the deal, you will cease to exist for us. Only our Father will be able to recall you. Even you will be unaware of your true nature. But you do have some control in the matter - you will choose your vessel,"

This gave Ariel some pause, "You mean, I'll have to do all this as a - "

"You'll be human, Ariel. One might see that as a key disadvantage when dealing with Lucifer."

"What next? What do I need to do?"

"For now, watch and wait. When you have chosen your vessel, I will find you. From there, I can't say. You may encounter Lucifer immediately, it may take years. Once you meet, you will have three days." Ariel faced what seemed an impossible task, but she had a plan. She was in it for the long game.

"I accept."


	4. 4 - Set into Motion

Olivia smoothed her hair back and rubbed her eyes one more time. She was getting tired, but she needed to get all this straight. She turned back, pacing behind Sam as he sat at the table, reading back to her details of the police report.

"So, you knew who we were before you even saw us?" She should have felt more exposed, more fearful, but she had to trust him. He knew who - what - had come after them and Olivia needed answers. "And those were - let me get this right - demons in my house?"

"Yep," Sam replied. They'd been over this a dozen times now. After the initial revelation, Olivia had gone with Sam back to the boys' room. She needed answers and wasn't in the mood to wait. Dean remained behind to look after Jenny while they talked. Sam had hoped a change in location would ease Olivia into revealing just how those two had taken on the demons.

"You do realize you sound like an absolute nut bar right now," Olivia stopped pacing and laughed. She dropped into the chair across from Sam, exhausted with the mere thought of what he was suggesting.

"But you know I'm right," he shut his laptop and slid it from between them. He focused on her now, deadly serious. "Olivia, you need to tell me what happened. We need to skip the part where you come to terms with the fact that the monsters under your bed are very real indeed and you need to tell me how you and your daughter got out of that house alive."

"But - " she began, helplessly.

"But what? I won't believe you?" Now Sam laughed, and Olivia leaned forward to the table, resting her face in her hands. She told him. She told him everything, and he listened. How they'd come into her house, intent on Jenny from the start. How, when she was able to get her hands on one of them, she'd felt that strange ripple of energy and somehow just _forced_ the life out of one of them. How they'd gotten the upper hand and she was sure they'd be dead by morning, except that Jenny saved them. She hadn't seen just what happened, but she'd felt the wave of light and heat that decimated the remaining attackers. Something was different about Jenny; something had always been different about Jenny, and whatever it was put her in danger. The whole damnable night just tumbled out and when the torrent of words was done, she finally looked at Sam. He hadn't moved the whole time she spoke, but he didn't look all that surprised. He believed her - every word of it, even the things she'd never had the strength to think, much less speak. She should have felt relieved, but instead it felt like she was dragging these two guys into the crosshairs of something terrible.

"I'd tell you to run - to get as far away from us as you can - but something tells me you wouldn't listen," she finished, and put her face back in her hands for a moment. Something like tears stung at the corner of her eye. She felt a hand on her shoulder, warm and reassuring, a kind of comfort she hadn't had since Peter. She looked up, and for a minute, felt hopeful.

"Not only are we staying, I think we can help you. There's some - "

At that, Olivia just let go, not even letting Sam finish his thought. After the kind of night she'd had, sobbing onto a stranger's shoulder didn't even register as mildly weird. The fear and anger she'd held in since the fire came out in gulping, undignified, if somewhat muffled wails. Sam just held her carefully, waiting for the storm to pass, caught a bit off guard, but not terribly surprised. Maybe her reality was already broken long before he and Dean showed up, but he knew better than most that there was a vast difference between thinking something might be out there and staring your nightmares right in the eye.

He slid an arm around her carefully, trying to offer a little support to her slowly wilting form, and brushed up against her bruised ribs. She jerked back instinctively, dragging a sleeve across her face as she stepped back. Snot and tears smeared across her face, leaving a shiny, half-dry trail.

"I … uh .. I'm - "she stuttered her way into an embarrassed half-apology. Sam stopped her and motioned to her side.

"Are you hurt? I have some supplies," he nodded at their own pile of packs in the corner, a faded red case poking out of the nearest pack. Olivia backed up a bit, but eventually flipped up the hem of her shirt just enough to reveal the fading bruises across her ribs. Some were still blue-black and angry-looking, but the edges were just starting to fade to green and yellow. Sam absently reached for her, but she jerked her shirt back down and turned away.

"I took a couple of solid shots to the ribs, I guess," she shrugged and began shuffling toward the door, "It's healing. I should get back to Jenny, she's probably - "

"Stay a minute, Olivia. You look like you need a break," Sam turned and began rummaging through the second pack, coming back with a half-bottle of scotch. He dropped it on the table and disappeared into the bathroom momentarily as he kept talking. "Look, I know it sucks to be on the run all the time. Must suck twice as much running with your kid" He reappeared with two paper cups and a couple of washcloths. "I also know if you keep going like this, you're going to wear yourself out and you're going to fuck up. Something seriously evil is after you and they are just waiting for that moment, trust me. Jenny's safe where she is right now, and so are 're not alone - you don't have to be alone in this."

Olivia rejoined Sam by the table, uncapping the bottle and pouring a healthy shot for herself. She tipped it back in one quick motion and let the burn warm her as she reconsidered. _Safe. When was the last time I thought we were safe?_ She sat on the edge of the bed and let Sam wipe her face as he continued to talk.

"This will help - I'm going to tape your ribs until they heal some more. Trust me, I've broken enough to know." He set aside the cloth and filled his own cup, took a quick drink and picked up the red case. He extracted a roll of wide tape and scissors, and motioned at her shirt. She exposed her ribs again, resisting the urge to pull back as he smoothed the tape over her injuries. His fingers tripped across an older scar as he placed the last piece of tape - one from the first fire - and she pulled back again. Enough of _that …_

"You said that when you fought the demons off in your house, you said you just _pushed_ the life out of one of them?" Sam turned and replaced the tape and scissors, continuing his questions.

"Yeah," she said, pouring another shot but just to sip this time. "What was that?"

"Well, if it's what I think it is, you kind of exorcized them. Did you learn to do that somewhere? " he replied, taking another drink and watching her response, settling back on his heels for a moment in front of her. Olivia laughed nervously and smoothed her hair back again.

"This is - this is all still really weird for me," she chuckled, gazing at the ceiling for a moment, then answered his question, "No, nobody taught me anything. It just _happened …_ lots of things seem to just happen around me. I'm like flypaper for freaky shit."

"Like what?" Sam sat forward. Olivia had more to tell, and other than his own experiences, the only other beings he'd ever seen pull off that particular party trick were angels.

She took another drink and turned her face back to the ceiling. _God, why am I doing this?_

"The other night, with the demons .. that wasn't the first time I've done something like that." She resettled herself before going on, tucking her legs under her, trying to feel smaller just for a minute. "The fire back home … the one Jenny talked about. Did you know Jenny was in the house when that happened?"

Sam looked up at her from the floor and took a slow drink. "How old was she?"

"Ten. She and James were ten and Louisa was only six. Jenny was the only one I could get to in time." Her eyes burned again and she swiped mindlessly, pushing back more tears.

"She looks like she's healed well -" Sam began, but Olivia stopped him.

"See, that's the thing. Jenny was right in the middle of the fire - by the time I found her, the ceiling had fallen in. She was burning - Sam, I watched her burning alive right in front of me. And I still don't know why, but I just reached for her and pulled her out. I just hung on tight and pulled her right out of it. By the time I got her outside, though, she was fine. It was like she just -"

"Healed," Sam finished, watching her more intently now. _Sound like anyone else we know?_ He shook his head, pushing away the thought. _No fucking way._

"She's only got one scar on her arm from the whole ordeal. And you know what's really weird?"

"What?"

"She never cried. Not even once."


	5. 5 - Everyone Must Breathe

Jenny was afraid she wasn't being very good company. After Mama left, she'd simply gone and picked up her sketchbook, pushing blankets and pillows aside on the bed to create a little nest to sit in. Even though Mama was the one doing most of the talking, she was the one who felt oddly exposed. _And now Mama's left me here, with this stranger that knows more about me than I want him to, more than I might know about myself_. She made herself as small and unnoticeable as possible, pulling her legs up under her and keeping her book close to herself as she worked on yet another page. Her afternoon nap had left only a single image behind, but she thought it might be an important one to remember. She tried fervently to ignore the stranger in the room, but still stole glances up every few minutes to make sure he was still there. Stranger or no, she felt better that he was there.

After several long minutes of watching him alternately pace, check the window, and flop down in the chair to dick around on his phone, she spoke up.

"You're a terrible babysitter," she said quietly but clearly, going back to her drawing before she could see his reaction. She heard him chuckle, a little surprised. "I could totally just get up and walk out, you know."

"Hey, being terrible takes practice. I gotta work at this," he continued to flip through old messages on his phone, not looking up. She suddenly felt the urge to be a pain in the ass, and there were still two beers left on the table. She was thirsty. Jenny quietly set aside her sketchbook and pencil on the table, forgetting to flip it shut. She kept watch on him as she slid out of her nest and padded across the room, coming at the table from the opposite side. Still, Dean remained focused on checking messages, pausing briefly to scratch at his face or shift in his seat. As she closed in on the table, she held her breath and reached slowly just past his shoulder to the neck of one of the remaining bottles. She closed her eyes as she got closer, focusing on staying as quiet as possible - until she felt a hand close around her wrist, tight enough to stop her, not enough to hurt.

"Nope," she opened her eyes at the sound of his voice, fingers just barely brushing her target. _Dammit_ , she winced and gave her best sheepish smile, twisting out of his grip and backing up a little. He raised an eyebrow at her, smiled a little, then kicked under the table, pushing out the chair in front of her. "C'mon, have a sit."

She remained in her spot for a moment longer, grinding a toe absently into the carpet and feeling a little stupid. She let her gaze drop to the floor and considered returning to the safety of her little nest. Dean cleared his throat a little and let out a resigned sigh. "Fine, _if_ you will come sit here and talk to me, you can have it." He grabbed the remaining two bottles and popped both caps, resting them on the table between the two chairs. She flicked her eyes up at him briefly and smiled back, climbing into the chair, being careful to fold her legs up under her as she had been in her nest. She just felt better all tucked in, less vulnerable. She accepted her prize and took a sip. It was still cold, a little bitter and soapy-tasting. She made a face, and Dean laughed at her.

"Didn't say it was good beer, did I?" He took a sip of his own and leaned back in his seat, watching Jenny fidget with her hair. "How old are you, anyway?"

"Eighteen," she lied and Dean immediately shot her the raised eyebrow. She blushed a little and spoke softer this time, "fifteen."

"How long has it been just you and your mom?"

"Five years. It's just been the two of us since I was ten," she was starting to get a little uncomfortable and shifted in her seat, fixing her eyes on him for a moment, "And how about you and Sam? How long has it been just the two of you?"

"Longer than I care to remember, sugar," he paused and rubbed his hands on his legs for a moment, "but it's not always just us - not like you two. Don't you have any other family?"

Jenny laughed dryly at this. "Alive? No. It really is just us. My grandparents passed long before I was born. And we're not exactly good at making friends." _Better at making friends explode._

"Like those guys at your house? Did you know them?" Jenny blinked a little at the starkness of the question, wondering for a second if she'd accidentally said that last bit out loud.

"Huh? No - umm, no I didn't know them. But -" she paused and took a long drink. She hadn't even said this to Mama yet. "But I think they knew me."

"Really? Why?" Dean sat forward, waiting for Jenny to look up again. "You know those guys, they weren't -"

"Human," she cut him off. "They weren't human. I figured out that much. But, they kept talking about my dad. Like my real dad, not Peter. Mama doesn't talk about him, says it just happened and then he was gone. But - " she paused again, remembering the certainty she felt in that one second, what she'd said to the boy. "I think I know who my father is."

Dean swallowed hard. Shit. _Why do I not want to hear what she's going to say?_

"I think my dad is one of those things. I think he sent them to -"

"Your dad's a demon." Hearing that word pass between them, Dean expected a much different reaction from the girl. But all she did was slowly unfold her pale legs, stretch, and re-fold herself into an even smaller ball on the chair. She stared at Dean for a long time, almost looking through him. She dropped all pretense of a casual conversation and let some of her anger creep across her face.

"I know I'm different. I'm not stupid, Dean," her voice came from a different place now, from the heavily shielded part of her mind where her dreams lived. It felt weird to be awake and remembering at the same time. "Mama, she tries to protect me. She tries to keep everything as normal as possible. We find someplace new, someplace quiet. We try to just blend in. And maybe it might be nice - a few months of _normal_. I go to school, Mama gets a job. We fight about homework and chores, and we do _try_ and make friends. And then - well, shit happens." She ran her hands over her face, not sure if she should be going on so much.

"Yes, that it does," Dean replied. "Like demons showing up at your door."

"No," she shook her head, pushing away her doubt, "No, those guys? That was a first. Usually it's me. I'm the reason we have to pick up and run. I mean - do you know why we took off in the first place? I mean, really why? It wasn't losing Peter and James and Louisa, it wasn't even the house burning down."

"So, what was it?"

"It was the other people, Dean. All of mama's friends, everyone in that stupid town. They said it was me - that I set the fire." She pulled herself in tighter now, almost disappearing under her baggy sweater and pajama pants. She looked even more like a mouse now, all eyes and trembling. Waiting for the hawk to dip out of the sky.

"Well, people -" Dean started, knowing full well what people liked to say when weird shit happened. "People are -" but then he stopped. A strange calm had come over Jenny and she sat up.

"They were right. I set that fire," she laughed a little now, "but it's not like you think. I wasn't trying to hurt anyone, least of all James. He was my brother, we'd never been apart our whole lives, and he was always so _sad_. Mama and Peter, they were good to us, we were good kids. But James said it, he told me that night - _we don't belong here, we shouldn't even be alive_ \- and I just got so mad. I got mad at him and everything around me just kind of - exploded …" she trailed off, dropping her eyes to the floor again and withdrawing back into herself. Tears stung impatiently at the corner of her eye. She pressed her fingers over her eyes for a moment and kept going.

"And then there was Maryland. And Indiana. And Missouri. And a bunch of other places - I don't even know when I'm doing it sometimes. I just start to feel it coming on, then - pop! - stuff's on fire. Broken glass. If I'm mad enough - people soup." She shook her head, letting her hair fall back over her face, concentrating hard on picking at her fingernails and _not_ looking up to see Dean's reaction. "Then, we get the fuck out of Dodge. If we're fast enough, we don't hear the whispers on our way out."

They sat for a long time like that, Jenny remaining focused on her fingertips, Dean just watching her in something approaching awe, neither moving - each suddenly afraid of the other.

"So," Dean paused, taking a long drink and gauging how fast he could get to the door, "you're saying I wouldn't like you when you're angry."

Jenny's head popped up in surprise, but she narrowed her eyes quickly. "You know you're kind of an asshole."

"Yeah, I get that a lot," he leaned back in the chair for a moment and watched Jenny unwind herself from her nested position. "I'm not afraid of you if that's what you're getting at. I've tangled with some nasty shit in my day. Gonna take a lot more juice than you've got to scare me, Carrie."

"It's Jen - go fuck yourself, Dean." she picked up an empty paper cup and pitched it at him, letting out a little giggle. He smiled back at her and batted the cup away, sending a paper plate back in her direction. Jenny stretched her legs again and stood up slowly. She made her way to the knapsacks in the corner and chose a lighter shirt. She turned over her shoulder briefly.

"Hey, I think I'm gonna lay down for a little while," she said, sliding off the sweatshirt and flipping the t-shirt over her head in quick succession. Dean started to stand as she changed, but she turned again, putting out a hand. "Please stay - I'd just feel a lot better if you stayed."

She kept talking as she pulled the hem of her t-shirt down, crossing the room. "I don't sleep much when it's just me and Mama. Most of the time, I'm just up, you know? Just looking after her." Jenny sat down and slipped her legs under the covers, flipping off the lamp by the nightstand as she lay back. Dean stretched out on the couch, closer to the door but still facing Jenny. The streetlights filtered in through the window, making her look even more ghostlike, her eyes shining in the dark as she tried to settle herself. "Something's coming for us, isn't it? Something bad …" she trailed off, watching for a reaction this time. He swallowed hard and shifted, unsure of what to tell her. Dealing with demons was never simple, never direct, and if she was right, _if she is who she thinks she is …_

"Tell me a story," Jenny mumbled from across the room, shaking Dean from his thoughts.

"Huh?"

"Tell me a story. You know all sorts of crap about me, but all I know about you is that you're dyslexic and have the bladder of an infant," she rolled up on her elbow for a moment and grinned. Dean felt around for something else to pitch at her but came up empty. He groaned and sat up a little against the back of the couch.

"Fine," he heaved a sigh, "what do you want to know?" Jenny giggled a little and burrowed into her pillow.

"What's your obsession with pie?" Fair enough. So they talked about pie. And she asked about Sammy, what it was like for them growing up, and he told her about that, too. She listened and she didn't interrupt too much, didn't make pitying noises in the dark when he talked about being young and scared most of the time. She had her own brand of fucked-up childhood going on, and she could relate. Neither would know normal if it walked up and sucker-punched them. She asked about the monsters, and he told her the truth, but he held back talking about the demons too much. She would know soon enough, but right now the little thing was exhausted and he wanted her to stop eyeing the room like something was going to jump out and eat her. Eventually, her questions trailed off and her eyelids fluttered shut. He settled back and gazed at the ceiling, waiting for her breathing to settle into the easy rhythm of sleep. It was her turn to sleep, to be looked after.

Across the room, Jenny snuffled and turned, flopping one arm over the edge of the bed. Dean turned back at the noise, saw her skinny arm drop, fingers trailing to the floor. She snuffled again, still asleep. Against the darkness of the room, he could see just how tiny she was. Just under the edge of the blanket, her shoulder blade popped against the thin material of her shirt, jutting like the ruined remnants of a wing. Her elbow was significantly wider than the rest of her arm, all knobby bone and tendon under pink flesh. A rather large and curious scar, however, twisted across her upper arm, white and stretched with time, unmistakable in its unique shape.

Dean cocked his head to the side to be sure, but it was right there in front of him.

 _A handprint._


	6. 6 - Falling off the Axis

Several doors down, Olivia had allowed herself to succumb to the restorative properties of booze, drifting off to sleep with her sneakers still on while Sam returned to the laptop and his research. He set up a records search for anything he could find about the fire in Pennsylvania, about Olivia herself, with the scant details she'd been able to provide.

She admitted not remembering much of her childhood beyond a few notable details - one, finding her death certificate in the same envelope as her birth certificate, a matching date filled in but unsigned, and two, being sent away to the group home after her parents' accident. She didn't elaborate on how they'd died, and he could tell as she talked that she didn't feel much of a connection to them. What she remembered of her parents was largely unpleasant and she was sure they'd have sent her away anyway had they lived. Olivia all but locked up when he asked her about the group home. She shared only that she'd been medicated into submission for much of her time there and was only too glad when she was released at eighteen.

He slouched back in his chair while the program ran, took another hit off the nearly empty bottle on the table, and watched Olivia for a few minutes. She was compact like Jenny, but built like a field hockey player, with strong legs and solid thighs. Irregular stripes of grey were beginning to overtake her shaggy, dark hair. She hadn't bothered trying to get under the blanket at all, and her sneakered feet dangled over the edge of the mattress. She'd rolled over nearly face-first into a pillow after nodding off and a little puddle of drool was just beginning to form under her mouth. She mumbled into the pillow from time to time, but nothing intelligible. Occasionally, a semi-congested snort would break the silence.

 _Christ, she sleeps like Dean … like sharing a room with a broken chainsaw …_

He made a mental note to get that girl some Sudafed in the morning. Search results began popping up, and he turned his attention back to the screen. The first results were as he expected - obituaries, a short article in the local paper, police and coroner's reports. He clicked through and skimmed them. Investigators had been unable to pinpoint the cause of the fire, only that it had started in an upstairs bedroom and resembled a small explosion rather than a slow-building accidental fire. Peter and the littlest one, Louisa, had been asleep at the time and were overcome by smoke before the fire actually reached them. There was evidence that James, Jenny's twin brother, had been awake and very close to the point of origin. Having heard Olivia's account firsthand, he knew the truth, but the official version placed Olivia and Jenny outside the house at the time of the fire. And, as she'd said, they'd sustained no visible injuries, though an ER doctor had noticed Jenny's unusual scar. He read and reread the doctor's note, letting the visual sink in as his mind started racing.

 _Oh shit_

He looked over at Olivia again as she stirred, still asleep but resurfacing from deeper places. She started to mumble into the pillow again, words beginning to form this time. "Find him …" she said, still very much unconscious, "he'll know what to do …"

Sam spoke up this time. "Find who? Who knows what to do, Olivia?"

Her voice was trailing off again and she turned her head away. Sam had to move closer to her to hear anything. She repeated "find him" a few more times, falling back into deep sleep, and Sam turned back, dismissing the moment as rambling.

"He remembers Ari …" she spoke louder this time. He stopped, remained still, listened to her drag in a ragged breath and speak again, "Find Castiel. He remembers Ari."

On the table, Sam's phone began to buzz. He swiped it off the table and answered as quietly as he could.

"Sammy, I think you need to see this."

"Yeah, I think I do."


	7. 7 - Get This Started

Olivia slipped her shoes off behind the counter as she finished wiping down the bar. She glanced around at the remaining tables and made her mental closing list - kick out the stragglers, count down the register, then go log all the timecards and bag the day's deposit. Peter, her ever-helpful cook and roommate, was already cleaning up in the kitchen. She popped up on a barstool and fished out the tail end of her cherry Lifesavers, watching Peter unload the last run of the industrial dishwasher. He snagged the tray of glasses and hoisted them up on the high shelf, shoulders barely twitching under his cook's whites. He stopped for a second, pushing back a clump of sweaty blond curls that escaped the edge of his black cap. She liked watching Peter in his element - he was a pleasantly fleshy guy, barely a head taller than her, with a baby face and a mess of fat curls that begged to be sproinged, but he was a phenomenal cook and moved like a cat in the kitchen. Now, he stood with his back to her, quietly and deftly washing his knives. His white jacket was soaked through with sweat in the center, sticking along the muscular line of his spine. Olivia sucked on her candy thoughtfully. For a second, she wondered what it would be like to run her hand along that spine, maybe sneak up behind him and nibble at that pink ear … but something just twisted inside her. It wasn't _him_ so much as it was her. Since she left the home, the mere thought of being that close to someone else just made her freeze up. He finished with the last knife and began to wipe down the counters. He glanced up at her, raising an eyebrow. She'd been staring. Oops. "You wanna help? My staff bailed early on me."

"Nope, too busy managing," she grinned at him, sticking out her tongue. The waning cherry candy sat defiantly on the tip. He chuckled and went back his work, flipping her the bird as he picked up the rag again. "Sorry, baby. It's a dirty job but someone's gotta do it." She slipped her shoes back on and scanned the room, looking for anyone who might be needing a cab, but there were only a handful of regulars in the booths and the guy at the end of the bar seemed reasonably OK . Might as well get started.

Brushing up against twenty two and she'd been shift manager at the grill for a little over six months. She was overworked and underpaid, but she was free. Since leaving the group home, she'd taken some time to adjust to life outside those flat grey walls. She'd turned up at the home freshly orphaned at 12, and not exactly compliant, but lithium sure as hell fixed that. It silenced the voices in her head that had been her constant childhood companion, as well as effectively cut her own. She spent six years in and out of consciousness, barely remembered the changing roster of court-ordered therapists sent to coax her out of her silence. Her memories of the home were sparse, disjointed at best, and mostly of other kids either actively avoiding her or actively trying to fuck with her. For the first couple of years out, she'd struggled to keep it together. Without the constant stream of meds, the voices returned with a renewed fury. On good nights, it was like someone left the TV on in the other room. Shreds of conversations, nothing she could make out for sure. On bad nights, there was only endless screaming. She'd lie awake for hours, clutching her pounding brain and grieving her lost family. On the very bad nights, Peter would make her some tea and sit up with her until the worst of it passed, silently and patiently stroking her hair, backing off to just sit on the floor when she couldn't handle being touched. He never asked her what was wrong, never pried for details of her life before; he was just there.

Come to think of it, she'd never asked Peter much about his life before they met, either. At first, he was just the guy from work with an extra room to rent. He didn't ask for much and didn't freak out when she spent her first night in the apartment sobbing in the bathroom. He was quiet but funny, with a goofy smile and a ten year old's sense of humor, and he gave freely the only thing she really needed - unconditional acceptance.

Her first stop was Nadine and Felicia - they always came in for drinks and Peter's red velvet cake after their Friday night movie dates. Once again, they bitched about the terrible movie but raved about the cake and Olivia promised she'd tell Peter. The next table was Mike - a big bear of a guy, he was as sweet as they came and good for a few beers and a burger after his late shift at the shop. She chatted with him for a few minutes, inquired after the wife and kids, and wished him a restful weekend. He called her "princess" and told her not to work too hard.

One more to go. She turned to the gentleman at the end of the bar. He was already watching her, drink in hand, as she'd done her rounds. He came off as slightly older in the grey suit and dark red tie, but his smooth face and delicate features made him look like a child. He had very pale blond hair, combed carefully in place, and quite striking blue, almost silver in the low light, eyes. He took a sip of his drink and smiled.

"I'm about to get kicked out, aren't I?" He was rather disarming in his manner, which threw her off her memorized spiel, and she faltered for a moment. She could have sworn she'd seen him before somewhere, yet couldn't remember even seeing him come into the bar earlier that night. She returned the smile and gave a little helpless shrug.

"Sorry," she said, "I do have to go home sometime tonight." She handed him the last check she had in her hand and began to turn back. He stood up, pulled out his wallet, and thumbed out a couple of bills.

"I wouldn't want to keep you a moment longer, but," he held her gaze as he continued, "maybe I could talk you out of going home, at least?" Olivia instinctively backed up a step. She had grown accustomed to patrons coming on to her in an effort to get free drinks or convincing her to stay open a few minutes later, but this man clearly wanted neither. He smiled again, looking hopeful and she blushed furiously.

"I, uh … I have to go," she stammered and looked around for a reason to disappear quickly, "My, uh …"

"I'm coming off like a creep, aren't I?" he put his face in his hands for a moment, pushing back his hair and laughing a little, "Look, I'm really sorry. It's just - it's been awhile."

Olivia momentarily relaxed, but still maintained her distance. "It's a bit much, coming from a stranger and all," she reasoned, then in a fit of unusual confidence, laid a hand on his arm and smiled warmly. "So, don't be a stranger. I'll see you around."

She spun on her heel and headed back into the kitchen before he could respond. Peter perked up as the door swung open and Olivia strode in, still pink-cheeked from her interaction. She leaned up against the wall near the door, just out of sight of anyone who might still be in the bar. She just - needed a minute. The dread she normally experienced when anyone tried to touch her sat in her gut like a stone, but a new feeling was warming her now, too. She motioned for Peter to come close, whispering.

"Do you know that guy at the bar? The suit down at the end?" she pointed, and Peter nonchalantly strolled past the order window, craning his neck to see to the end of the bar. Her mysterious stranger was downing the last of his drink. He shook his head.

"Nope, do you?"

"No, but I think he was trying to put the moves on me," she laughed, still a little off kilter. Peter threw another glance out into the bar area, checking the guy out. He shrugged and grinned at her.

"Well, if you're not gonna hit that, give him my number." Olivia made a face at him, so he stuck his tongue out right back, then checked the bar again. "Looks like he's gone now, so you can finish closing, scaredy cat." Olivia rolled her eyes and gave him a playful shove on the way back out.

"Maybe I will ask him out," she called over her shoulder. Peter laughed. He'd never even seen Olivia flirt with anyone, much less any sort of relationship. She was definitely one that liked to keep to herself and there were times he appreciated that, too.

"This year? Come on, Liv, finish up so we can get out of here. I'm tired and I smell like fried things."

She picked up the payment from the last tables and said another goodnight to Nadine as she ushered her somewhat tipsy girlfriend out the door in front of her. Twisting the lock behind them, she scanned the bar again for anyone or anything else out of place, then pulled the register drawer and her notebook. Retreating to the relative comfort of her tiny office behind the kitchen, she popped on the radio while she finished the last of her closing duties. She tipped another cherry candy from her pocket and sang along badly. Just as she was closing the safe, Peter appeared at the door and gave a little wave.

"Hey, all done yet?" He'd changed out of his white jacket and into a faded Metallica t-shirt, partly-zipped backpack slung over one shoulder with his jacket, cap and knife roll shoved inside. He _did_ smell like fried things.

"Yep, just give me a second." She shrugged off her blazer, trading it for a red hoodie from the hook on the back of the door and quickly swapped her plain black heels for plain white sneakers. Peter often described her fashion sense as "distinctly nondescript". Olivia worked hard to blend in and not be noticed and while he certainly understood the comfort of anonymity, it unnerved him that she could hide in plain sight so well. The red hoodie had been a gift from him, "so I can find you in a crowd," he'd said.

Olivia pulled the office door shut behind her and hurried to catch up to Peter near the front door. He was waiting for her, leaning against one of the front windows and grinning like an idiot.

"Guess you made an impression," he said, handing her the scrap of paper he'd found on the end of the bar. She snapped it out of his hand and read it. There, in small, neat handwriting, was a phone number and a single phrase - Not Stalking You On Purpose - Nick.

Nick slammed the door of his brother's apartment closed behind him, his customary way of announcing his presence. He found it gave ample time for Steve to find some goddamn pants. His creepy boyfriend Gabe had been hanging around lately and there were just parts of his brother he had no desire to see ever again. He threw his jacket in the general direction of the couch and headed toward the kitchen, not even bothering with the lights. He'd had a headache all day and just couldn't seem to shake it. Hell, he couldn't even remember where he'd been since he left work and, according to the clock in the kitchen, it was nearing midnight.

"Steve!" he yelled in the general direction of the bedrooms as he checked the fridge for decent leftovers. He was _starving._ "Did you eat all the spaghetti from last night?"

"Steve's asleep - I ate your spaghetti." Nick started at the voice immediately behind him and banged his head on the freezer door handle. Not helping the headache. Gabe stifled a laugh, standing in the kitchen doorway in nothing but a pair of ugly green shorts and his stupid, creepy, spaghetti-eating smile. He seriously could not see what Steve saw in this guy.

"Hey," Nick busied himself with pouring a glass of juice and rummaging in the cabinet for some aspirin. "What do you want?"

"Just wanted to see how my favorite brother was doing," he grinned, and Nick wanted to punch him a little bit more. Gabe grabbed the juice bottle and took a long drink straight from the bottle, his eyes never shifting from Nick. Little bits and pieces began to filter back from the last few days. Nick, halfway passed out on the couch. Gabe, leaning in close over him to ask a question. Nick, mumbling "Sure, yeah, whatever," and rolling over. Then - nothing. Flashes of getting up in the morning, seeing himself in the mirror but not really _looking_ like himself. Like he just sort of woke up at various points in his day - the train ride to work, a staff meeting he barely paid attention to, walking up and down the street looking for that goddamn bar. He still tasted the remnants of gin and lime at the back of his mouth - he _hated_ gin. What the hell did Gabe ask him, anyway?

"The fuck are you on about?" Nick swallowed the tablets dry, suddenly wondering how many times he'd unknowingly drank Gabe's backwash in the last week. He wanted to gag.

"Not you, asshole," Gabe glared at him, smile suddenly dropping, as if he just noticed it was Nick he was talking to.

"Fuck you," Nick pushed past him and collapsed on the couch, his bedroom too far away to bother. Gabe followed, still carrying the juice bottle. He stopped at the shelf behind the couch and grabbed a bottle of vodka, carefully topping off his juice. Nick just laid back and ground the heels of his hands into his eyes, pain slicing through his head despite the medicine.

"You'll be around soon," he muttered, watching the fluid rise slowly in the bottle. Satisfied with his new mixture, he capped the vodka and settled on the couch, shoving Nick's legs out of the way. He didn't protest, too tired to put forth the effort. Just as he slipped out of consciousness again, he remembered what it was - "Hey, buddy, my brother's coming around for a few days - mind if I borrow your body? We'll take good care of it."

Gabe sipped his concoction and waited for Nick to come around again. It didn't take long. He blinked a few times, took a moment to orient himself and, noticing his brother seated nearby, broke into a smile. "Hey, brother."

"So," Gabe smiled conspiratorially, "how'd it go? Did you talk to her?"

"Yeah, I did. Just like you said. But I don't think it's going to work - you should have seen her - she looked like she would've climbed the walls just to get away from me." He accepted the offered drink - more grape-flavored vodka than actual juice.

"Don't worry - she'll call." Gabe leaned back into the sofa confidently, hands behind his head.

"I don't know - really, she -"

"It will work, Luci. Have faith." He laughed and picked up the bottle again, taking a long drink. "Your princess will come before you turn into a pumpkin again."

"But why her, Gabriel? Who the hell is she, anyway? How is she going to get me released?"

"That's not important right now, dear brother. I managed to get you out on weekend pass, right? Just know that everything will be all set for your triumphant return."


	8. 8 - Unbreak Broken

Dean met his brother on the walkway outside the rooms, halfway down. He immediately began pulling Sam towards the other room, with an anxious urgency unusual for him.

"Sammy, you gotta see this. It's Jenny - she's got a -"

"She's got a handprint, Dean. I know. It's Olivia's," he stopped his brother. "Did Jenny happen to tell you _how_ she survived that fire?"

"No, but she thinks she caused it. She said she just got mad and pulled a Firestarter in her room." Dean stopped again and turned back to Sam, "Wait - that's Olivia's hand?" _Holy crap,_ he felt faint for a second.

"Yep."

"So, she's a - "

"Yeah, but I don't think she knows. And now, she's sleep-talking that we need to get Cas involved. And someone called Ari," Now it was Sam's turn to backpedal, "Jenny's psychokinetic?"

"Umm - apparently. She's done it a bunch of times before. It's why they keep moving. She's unstable, Sammy." He stared hard at the room door, considering the world of hurt they'd just wandered into. What the ever-loving fuck did they -

A rush of air and a familiar flutter were all the prior notice Dean had before a heavy hand landed on his shoulder. He spun, shaken from thought -

"Christ on a cracker, Cas! Warning!" He scolded the scruffy angel, who was looking quizzically between the brothers.

"You called me. Besides, how would one even fit an entire person on a cracker? Is this a particularly large cracker?" Sam stifled a laugh, Dean rolled his eyes.

"We didn't call you. It was someone else, someone we ran into working this job," Sam shifted his eyes back to their room door for a second, then continued. "But there's some things you should know first. These people - this girl and her mom - they're different. But we've gotta do something - they're being hunted."

Castiel nodded thoughtfully. "The demons you tracked here?"

"Yeah," Dean continued, "they're after the girl." He glanced back at the other door, momentarily resisting the urge to check on her again.

"Why?"

"You'll see soon enough. Look, they're both crashed out right now. But we need to get ahead of this thing. That kid is in the middle of some pretty heavy shit."

"What can I do to help?"

Sam nodded back to the boys' room, "Come on, I'll show you what we have so far." He started for the room but Dean hesitated for a moment.

"Dude, we can't leave Jenny out here. She has a huge demon-shaped target on her and it won't be long before more show up."

"Fine, go keep an eye on her. If she wakes up, bring her over." Sam replied over his shoulder, not breaking stride. Dean turned back to the girls' room and slipped back in quietly, noting with relief that Jenny remained asleep. She'd kicked her blanket back, looking even more like a pale little bird in the darkened room, laid bare to predators. He pulled the blanket back up over the girl, giving a little tuck at her shoulder for good measure. She stirred momentarily to shove the blanket down a bit, then settled. Dean shrugged, turning to take up post again on the couch until he heard back from the others. Jenny's sketchbook stuck out at an angle from under the bed, one of the pages folded up roughly, right where she'd left it earlier in the night. He stopped for a second, reached to pick up the discarded book. Dean thought about their earlier talk and remembered how she mentioned she liked to draw when she woke up. It helped her remember. _She'll probably be looking for this when she wakes up,_ he reasoned and began to straighten the crumpled page and flip the cover shut. Once the page was flattened, however, he could see what Jenny had been working on so diligently that afternoon.

 _Shit shit - no, no this is not what I'm seeing -_ Dean wasn't one to panic, but it wasn't every day he came eye to eye with the very entity he'd forced back into captivity through a fifteen year old girl's sketchbook. Especially not one that claimed her unique parentage.

They weren't safe anywhere.

Hastily flipping the book shut, he tucked it under Jenny's sleeping arms. He slipped one arm under her shoulders and the other under her knees, scooping her out of bed in one easy motion, and hightailed it to his brother. Jenny briefly surfaced from sleep and looked up, momentarily fearful. She looked like Sammy used to look, big wet eyes peeking over the top of a blanket, reeling from a child's nightmare, trying so hard to remain silent in the dark. Dean shushed her absently, kissing the top of her head like he'd done so many times to get his baby brother back to sleep.

"We're goin' on a little trip. Everything's fine - go back to sleep." He shifted her weight to open and close the door, resettling her head on his shoulder as she drifted off again. He wondered what she was dreaming for a moment, then shook his head, clearing the beginning tendrils of the thought he'd had first. _No way, just no fucking way._

They reached Sam's door and Dean tapped his boot against the door, trying not to wake Jenny, but wanting to get Sam's attention. He heard a shuffle of chairs and footsteps from within and the lock clicked, door swinging inward. Sam and Cas were in the middle of a conversation, barely stopping to register his presence or note the bundle of angelspawn in his arms. Dean strode across the room anyway and settled Jenny next to the still very much asleep Olivia. Remembering the sketchbook, he pitched it across the room right into Sam's lap. That got his attention.

"Uh, guys?" Dean cleared his throat extra-loud, waiting for the other two to catch up. Sam looked up at his brother, looked at the sketchbook in his lap.

"Do I want to open this?" Sam regarded his brother carefully, noticing the flush of panic creeping into his cheeks.

"Probably not," Dean began pacing the small strip of carpet on the opposite side of the bed.

"Well then you probably don't want to hear what Cas has to say," Sam was biting back a panic all his own, after hearing the angel's reasoning for Olivia calling out to him.

"We're in a world of shit, aren't we?"

"You could say that."

"End of the world shit?"

"Possibly."

"Again?" Dean stopped pacing and waited for the inevitable answer.

"Yep." Sam answered, and silence settled over the room like a mist, both brothers just staring at the sleeping forms on the bed between them.

"Ariel is a myth, what humans might call a fairy tale," Castiel broke the silence, quietly, regarding the sleeping girls as well. The small one Dean had brought in had such a familiar look, just outside his memory, and though faint, it was there. They both smelled of grace. He breathed in slowly, preparing to tell the story he'd only heard in whispers, a secret passed between angels. "Ariel is - was - the last Archangel. The only Daughter of God. After Lucifer's betrayal, it is said she fled Heaven to grieve for her brother."

"And?" Dean moved closer, sitting on the end of the bed, just past Jenny. Castiel met his gaze, then dropped his eyes in resignation. As much as he wanted to, he didn't have an answer.

"And nothing. That's it. She left and was never heard from again. Most didn't even believe she ever existed. Even Michael denied her existence. As long as I've ever known, it was only a story."

Sam picked up the thread from there, making the connection they all knew was coming. "Until now. Cas here seems to think that Olivia is not only _an_ angel, she's _that angel_. And she has absolutely no idea."

"That's not good," Dean sat up, running his hands through his hair and just staring at the ceiling. He sucked in a quick breath and let it all out in a single stream. "Here's the thing. Jenny says those demons were sent for her, specifically. That her father sent them for her. And she's pretty sure her father is a demon, too."

Cas didn't reply, only continued to watch the sleeping youngster. It was really starting to bother him, this strange child wearing a face he knew he'd seen a thousand times before yet couldn't quite place. He didn't yet understand the human obsession with gambling, but something in the back of his mind would have put good money on her eyes being a particular shade of blue.

Sam shifted uncomfortably, the sketchbook still resting unopened in his lap. "And what's the book got to do with this?"

Dean stopped for a second, looked back at Jenny, and leaned forward again. He felt for a second like he was betraying her trust, sharing something she likely had never told anyone else. "She draws her dreams. She says that, if she can catch it quick enough, she remembers her father."

Sam flipped the book open to the still-creased page and nearly dropped the book. "No fucking way," he said after a tense silence. Wordlessly, he held the page up for Castiel to see. For a moment the angel forgot himself, and a sudden smile broke across his face. He jabbed a finger at the page.

" _That's_ where I've seen her before! _Of course!_ She has to be his -" he stopped mid-thought, feeling the somewhat angry but mostly confused gaze coming from both brothers. He sobered quickly, coughing a bit into his hand. "What?"

"Cas, that's Lucifer."

He'd never been one prone to strong language, and had refrained from picking up the habit in his earthly travels. Humans had a fantastically descriptive palette of languages and expressions to choose from, and he just didn't see the need. Then again, there was a first time for everything.

"We are so fucked. So, Very. Fucked."

The three of them sat like that for what seemed like ages, trading glances, watching Olivia and Jenny with morbid curiosity, utterly unable to describe their situation any better than Castiel's last statement. The whole situation was unreal, Sam thought, switching his attention back to the drawing. All they had was pieces and theories, really, and the one person in the room that could have been able to shed any light on the situation was completely unaware of her own nature, broken in a way Sam wasn't sure they could overcome. Broken in a way that was going to get them all killed.

Cas coughed again, rubbed his hands over his face. "I could try and fix her. It's the only way to know for sure."


End file.
